Dreams Come Freely
by LucasJonesInc
Summary: The Frontier is a place to be conquered by whoever has the most tenacity. Gale is on his way to prove himself as such. But deep in New Mexico, he is sidetracked in a dusty tavern, by the diamond in the rough hidden within. (GalexPeeta, HaymitchxEffie) R&R!
1. Prelude

Two Serpents snaked their way through the scorched red earth of the canyon, their fiery tongues spitting lightning and rain.

The gathering Thunder rumbled like a deep drum, rolling deafening syllables through the air.

The lightning and the rain burled around the Serpents, giving them leave to dance and sing.

And the serpents sang gladly.

Their song called for the rain and the lightning to mate with the Thunder.

The rain, and the lightning, and the Thunder complied, with wanton cries of –

Oh, oh! How the bear yearns for the star! Oh, oh! How he does not know!

A lone figure sat before the maelstrom in a circle of stone, eyes transfixed at the scene before him.

A Coyote observed from a mountaintop peak, seemingly conducting the stormy orchestra. With one long howling note, it brought the tempest to a crescendo.

Then Gale woke up.

It had been a troubled night for Gale. He had broken into multiple sweats throughout the night, and now in the kitchen, he couldn't find any food. For the past few days he had been out on the Western Front, hunting for Apaches.

But his reserves had run low.

He knew of tavern near Santa Fe called 'The Old Boot', and had taken refuge there only once before, many years ago, when the leader of the Apaches had charged him down. He had only just managed to escape by jumping from his horse onto the stable roof, and then flinging himself through a second-floor window. The innkeeper had been none too pleased, but after hearing Gale's tale of reckless heroism, had been more willing to offer him a glass of milk fresh from the tavern's Jersey cow, Beatrice.

Having decided that this would be the direction to take, Gale packed his knapsack and put away his multi-room tent. He leapt upon his appaloosa, Bill, and headed south-east for Santa Fe, and the tavern.

Gale arrived some hours later, and loosed Bill to be fed and watered. "Go, my young lad, go feed yourself and be refreshened. " Bill trotted off.

Bunderburg the barman was pouring a double whiskey for one of his regulars, a rugged outlaw by the name of Haymitch, when the saloon doors swung open and a shadowy brute of a figure stepped into the darkness.

He was at least six foot four, shoulders as broad as he was tall. His head was like a bowling ball. His eyes were sparkling blue and he had a charming smile with perfect, brilliant-white teeth. His chin was a sight to behold – protuberant, broad, chiselled, and truly magnificent. Bundergurg immediately knew that this was a man of stature and respect, and poured him a drink even before he had reached the bar.

"Have a seat," he said gruffly.

The stranger sat, and knocked back the drink. "The name's Gale," he said, oozing masculinity and brawn.

"Will you be staying a while?" asked Bunderburg, suspecting that this was the case.

Gale nodded, "Making it so wow now." He clicked his fingers twice. "Give me your best room. I've been hunting Apaches for the past month."

"Certainly, sir," said Bunderburg, and nodded to the resident courtesan, Effie Dragwell. She giggled behind her fan, and tottered off upstairs.

"And will you be wanting any entertainment, this evening?" asked Bunderburg, turning to the Gorgeous Gale.

"What've you got?" he rumbled.

Again, Bunderburg turned to Lady Dragwell, and she giggled behind her fan, and tottered back upstairs.

Overhead, along the banister of the tavern's gallery, beautiful creatures emerged from the various private rooms.

Peeta sat in front of his vanity mirror, staring morosely at his own reflection. The other girls bustled around him, hysterically giggling and clucking at each other as they slipped on their dancing outfits.

Suddenly, Effie Dragwell came tottering into the room, babbling about some new steak of a man that was waiting for the girls downstairs. She hurriedly shooed her dancers out of the room, shrieking to them to keep the new client busy while she prepared the main event.

Effie closed the door behind the proliferating pack and turned to Peeta. Clocking his expression in the vanity mirror, she placed one hand on her hip and sighed.

"Are you going to do this every time we have a new customer?"

Peeta narrowed his eyes. Turning away from Effie, he began to moodily reapply his face powder. Effie stalked over to him and grabbed his face hard with one ring encrusted hand.

"You know that this is your livelihood," she hissed. "If we hadn't taken you in you would be out in the wilderness, battling coyotes and being rejected by every man, woman, and child in every town you came across, you little slut!"

Peeta tried to hold back his tears, and surrendering he whimpered, "I know."

He sashayed out onto the gallery, throwing his feather boa over his bare porcelain shoulders. With one hand slinking down the banister, he seductively shimmied his way into the centre of his supporting dancers. He gazed out into the crowd of hungry onlookers, each like a fine cut of a pig's hind-quarters. He suddenly felt naked and ashamed, but knew that he needed to keep pressing on.

Moving over to the microphone, he raised one arm over his head and curved his body in one fluid, sensual movement. Lowering his bejewelled eyes as the song began, he opened his stained lips and breathed –

'C'mon Billy….'

The music began, and Gale was forever changed as he stared upon the delicate flower stood before the microphone singing.

He gestured over to Effie Dragwell, who giggled behind her fan as she twittered over to him.

'_Her_, Ms Dragwell. I want _her_.'


	2. Awkward in Love

A barely detectable look of dread flashed across Effie Dragwell's finely painted features. However, Ms Dragwell was a superb actress, one who had expertly gleaned the tricks of her trade.

"Well," she said breezily, dusting down the front of her corset and looking sideways coquettishly at the manly man. "We don't usually allow for private – _viewings _– if you catch my drift." At that moment a breeze came through the saloon doors and lifted her skirt. "Oh my!" she gasped.

In the background, Haymitch temporarily roused himself from his seventeenth Budweiser, and caught sight of Effie's fine ankles. "Hurgh, oggy hoo." He drunkenly slurred, falling off his barstool.

Gale unfortunately did not share Haymitch's appreciation for Effie's slight reveal, and he glared at her, clearly unimpressed. "I have money, and wares from the Apache Wars: rope, sling-shots, badger hides, some pepper, a rare Satsuma. Take your pick, woman. The dancer" – he indicated Peeta – "is _mine_."

"Well, I _do _like satsumas…" Effie mused to herself. Nevertheless, she knew the gravity of the situation if she were ever to disclose the true identity of her star. Sharply flicking open her fan, Effie shot Gale a long and lustful look. Leaning over him, she gently caressed his neck with her lips, whilst sliding one hand down his chest.

"Trust me darling, I'm much better than that little wench could ever be. Give me the badger hides and the Satsuma, and I'll show you what a real woman can do."

Gale's face remained stoic and unmoved. His hand still clutched the glass of whiskey on the bar-top, and his jaw visibly tautened. Finally, he could take Ms Dragwell's fondlings no more, and swiped at her with his great hammy fist. "Enough woman!" he boomed, rising to his feet, badger hides swinging around his crotch-area, rope wrapped mannishly around his ankles. He took another swipe at Effie, and she giggled excitedly, and looked disappointed. She tottered off upstairs, bemused.

Peeta watched the carnivalesque scene unfolding before him. Sighing to himself, he floated down from the stage, and sashayed in between the arguing pair – narrowly missing a swipe from the loud apish brute. Climbing the stairs, Peeta turned around to watch the progress of the argument between his mistress and the stranger. Effie, who had returned from upstairs with a whip, was waving it wildly around her head, aiming for the stranger's elbow.

Gale looked down at her like one would look at a fly, and said in disgruntled tones, "What is this nonsense? You can have the badger hides, little woman."

"I should hope so!" said Effie, striking the Gargantuan Gale on the ribs.

Since she showed no signs of abating in her assault, Gale bent over and reached down towards her. Effie squealed and started to run, but such was the length of Gale's arm that his hand followed after her. He caught her in one, and gave her a noogie. "Who's your daddy? WHO'S YOUR DADDY?" Gale bellowed.

By this point, Peeta had had enough. Taking off his stiletto heel, he aimed at the stranger with as much precision as he could muster. Flinging the shoe, he caught the bully squarely between the eyes. Gale let out a disgruntled grunt, dropping Effie to the floor. Effie stood up and straightened her wig.

"Who threw that?" boomed Gale, turning, and his badger hides swung low and heavy about him.

His eyes rested upon Peeta looking down from the gallery above.

Peeta gazed down and his cerulean eyes met the steely blue stare of the Gastronomical Gale.

Both Effie and Barman Bunderburg looked between the two, and Effie knew there was no way she could stop the mighty man from claiming her star performer.

There was a flash of light, and suddenly everyone in the bar became frozen. A rising breeze flew open the saloon doors, and in sleeked a brazen coyote. It took stock of the scene before it, then slowly slinked its way towards the bar. Standing on its hind legs, it poured itself a Budweiser from the barman's beer tap. Sipping thoughtfully on its beer, it rested its eyes on the two figures staring intently at one another. Recognising that they were its reason for being there, it put down its Budweiser and floated over to the taller of the two.

Smiling to itself, revealing its long knife-like teeth, the coyote ripped the sleeve off Gale's tunic, exposing his muscular arm. Then the wolverine-creature levitated up to the gallery where Peeta still stood in static time. It gnashed its teeth and salivated a bit, and then tore into Peeta's sequined dress, revealing his dainty white arm.

The coyote's work was done. It floated back down to ground-level, poured itself another drink for the journey, and made its exit. At the saloon-doors, it clicked its claws, and time returned once again.

Peeta suddenly found himself staring down at the bulging, rippled, over-stimulated arm of Gale, who in turn had caught sight of Peeta's delicate porcelain limb. They were both observing a tattoo that had been revealed on each other's bodies.

Gale's was a grizzly bear, and Peeta's a shining star.

TBC…


	3. The Showdown Begins

Chapter Three – The Showdown Begins

"Your tattoo!" exclaimed Peeta. "Why, it's a big ol' bear. And mine's a shinin' staaarrrr."

"You speak prophetically," grumbled Gale.

Stalking closer up to the gallery to where Peeta stood daintily, Gale attempted to reach out and grasp Peeta's arm. Shivering at the idea of being physically touched by such a brute, Peeta let out a gasp and pulled himself away, clutching his tattooed arm defensively.

But Gale persisted, grunting, "Come here, you heaving bosom!"

"Oh my!" Peeta pranced back like a dainty oscelot. But such was Gale's hefty reach, that his snaking arm grappled with Peeta from behind. Shifting another arm around Peeta's waist, Gale reached down and pinched Peeta's pert bottom.

"Oooh tasty!' said Gale, sniffing the perfume laced through Peeta's hair.

Peeta turned and struck Gale across his manly face with his little dainty hand. Outraged, Gale grabbed Peeta's arm. Peeta grabbed Gale's arm. They stared into one another's eyes, in deadlock.

Peeta's gaze clouded over, and his swimming vision swerved into darkness.

* * *

He found himself standing upon a vast expanse of barren desert, the sky above veiled with shadow. Across the way, Peeta could make out two men arguing with each other – one was the manly brute, Gale; the other a Serbian Sex God, called Vukmir Vukmir.

"You heinous beast!" screamed Vukmir. "You killed all dem Apaches, mon! Now you will suffer yo' karmaaaa. Spirit Animal – engage!" He bent over and touched his toes, did five lunges, and some squats. As Gale watched (and Peeta, from afar), Vukmir Vukmir sprouted green feelers and his eyes became black and huge upon his transmogrifying face.

In response, Gale ripped off his shirt, stuck a stolen Apache dagger between his teeth, and readied his whip. The two combatants began to circle each other, throwing death stares and heinous taunts.

"Your feelers are so short you wouldn't be able to find your way out of a box!" hurrumphed Gale.

"Your face is like your momma's face that's like your cousin's aunts twice removed uncle's bad bronchitis that should have stayed at home, yo! YOU TRIPPIN!"

This infuriated Gale, as his Uncle's bad bronchitis was a very dear relation to him. He roared like mighty thunder and swung his whip back and forward, slicing the insectified Serbian Sex God in twain.

Vukmir squealed, looking down at his disconnected lower-half. Then he cackled. "I iz yo' wo'st nigh'mare, foo'." And he sprouted a new bottom, complete with six extra legs, and a shiny carapace that folded into his shoulders to reveal a pair of fancy diaphanous wings.

"GAH!" said Gale, furiously burrowing himself into a sand-dune for protection. Vukmir zoomed back and forth like a crazed stinging wasp. His assault was neverending, lasting a total of forty days and forty nights.

Eventually, Gale became tired of the insect's repetitive fighting techniques, deciding that now it was the time to unleash the big guns.

He reached down the front of his pants and pulled out a Spring Airsoft Army-standard rifle. Taking aim, he blasted the rifle with as much precision as a badger flinging a sling-shot at a raccoon. Which by the way is very accurate, yo. Catching Vukmir through his favourite leg (the bottom left one, second from the top), Vukmir let out a whimper of extreme pain and ever so slight arousal.

"Ooooerow!"

With Vukmir on the back-foot, Gale leapt out of his sandy hovel, and wrestled the Sex God to his numerous knees.

"I had to kill those Apaches!" Gale howled, slamming his knuckles into Vukmir's pancreas. "It was kill or be killed! And I was out of satsumas! A man cannot survive in the West without a Satsuma or three. The Apaches were threatening to send a herd of Samurai-cows after me, if I did not face their greatest warrior, Edward Macchiato, in battle." He punched Vukmir.

Vukmir Vukmir died. His last words faded into the dust. "Spatulaaaaaaas... spork!"

Chuckling to himself and dusting off his pancreas-stained hands, Gale was just turning to leave the bitter battlefield when an ear-splitting bellow shook the earth around him in a two-metre radius. A thousand cranes complete with wrecking balls hanging from their beaks tore the earth in twain, crooning Katie Melua's 'Nine Million Bicycles in Beijing'. A throne rose from the abyss, and upon't ye olde dais sat a lordly lion. His name was Petunia, and he was fab-u-lous.

A roiling cumulus cloud crackled with thunder and split in twain. Beneath it shot down a strobe of brilliant vermillion light that conveniently hit Petunia upon his noble brow. The cloud giggled behind its fan, and tottered off upstairs.

"I deign you with my presence," began Petunia, in his heart-wrenching falsetto.

_My opulence is astounding_

_My operetta divine_

_My sassy moves abounding_

_I think I'm mighty fine_

_Now look at you, brute-fool_

_Your chin so awf'lly broad_

_It's clear that you're a tool_

_Now time to sow dischord!_

_So feel my mighty paw_

_Against your beefy chest_

_I'll knock you to the floor_

'_Cos I'm giving you my best_

"Ready cranes, Ok!" said Petunia over his furry shoulder. The cranes fluttered down from the stratosphere, and assembled into pears. In perfect synchronization, they entwined their stalks and swirled around on their rotund, velvety bodies. "Mmmm, delicious," purred Petunia, marvelling at his choreography skills. Pears had been his favourite fruit back in high school.

_So watch out Mister Gale_

_I'll bruise you with my groceries_

_We'll pound you down like wintry-freak-storm hail_

_And you'll be dead pow-pow BOOM-KA-IIE-OOH._

With that, Petunia whipped out a trampoline from somewhere, and used it as a launching pad to pounce at Gale. Gale, who was much acquainted with trampoline warfare knew exactly what to do. As a child, he had been raised by a Tibetan Llama who had won gold in gymnastics at the winter Olympics. Trained to within a inch of his life, Llama-sensei-Alpaca-drama-Llama-the-Third had shown him unique, and antiquated jumping techniques only found in ancient Egyptian scripture, originally sent down to Earth from the inhabitants of Planet B-231Z in the pancreas constellation department, Office Block C, 123 Fake Street.

Gale pounced forward to meet the assault of Petunia head-on. They grappled with each other mid-air for thirty minutes, simultaneously giving and receiving dainty blows, before plummeting downwards onto the trampoline.

Neither of them were expecting what happened next. Such was the force of their combined kinetic power, and the sheer elastic strength of the trampoline, that they were rocketed into outer-space.

Astounded, Peeta watched them from his deckchair. He sipped upon his raspberry daiquiri, and waited in trepidation for the galactic melee to begin...

TBC! Please review!


	4. The Orb of Time - Part I

The Orb of Time – Part I

Peeta's mouth burned.

He had in his lap a bowl of spicy fries and mayonnaise, and was eating them hungrily. He had been waiting on Gale for two days and two nights night. There was no sign of him as of yet. The last thing he had witnessed was the substantial colossus of-a-man recoiling off the tarpaulin of the trampoline, writhing in the air with the ferociously fanciful Petunia.

Placing a jewelled hand over his heart, Peeta felt a slight pang of yearning. How could this be? He detested that foul...strong...magnificent...melon-shaped magpie of a man. He cursed himself in his conflict. How could he loathe such a man, and yet adore him so much? ?

Digging his nails into his tattooed arm, Peeta let out a keening wail. Casting his bowl of spicy fries behind him, he began to flail and whirl about. Flopping onto the ground, he mooed indignantly. Then he grazed for a bit. This always helped him gather his thoughts and keep his figure looking FIERCE.

Pulling out his wand, Peeta decided to get all wingardium leviosa up in this joint.

"Wingardium Leviosaah!" he howled, swishing his wand about his person, and wiggling his toes. "Hoopsie!"

His feet lifted off the grassy plane, and gracefully he floated into the cockpit. He strapped himself in and pulled his visor over his cerulean eyes.

'SET PHASORS TO STUN! REVERSE THE POLARITY! SHOOT THE PORCUPINE! GATHER ME SOME CHRYSANTHEMUMS! TING. TANG! WULLA WULLA BING BAAAANG!'

The plane shuddered into awkward motion.

Speeding down the runway, Peeta's F117-Nighthawk lifted with a huge shebang, and sped upwards through the firmament, the stratosphere, the atmosphere, the polarsphere, the colosshperher... ?

* * *

The rotund Gale spread his arms and legs into the formation of a breast-stroke, and hovered serenely past the rings of Saturn towards Jupiter. Such was his vastness, that he eclipsed the planet. Yawning widely, Gale lethargically rolled onto his back, and began to practise his air aerobics. Drifting past Gale in the murky deep of space, the coyote vacantly – and flatulently – propelled himself forward. Taking a nibble out of Gale's right toe, the coyote continued on. Yea verily.

"My toe!" Gale bawled. He swivelled himself onto his front, and attempted to rotate his arms and legs to gain forward-thrust. He pushed Jupiter out of the way, who giggled behind its fan, looked confused, and tottered off upstairs. However, in the planet's place there was no coyote to be seen.

A waft of smoke swirled through the negative space past Gale's flaring nostrils. Outraged, he turned to look for its source.

There, hanging in the ORB OF TIME, sat Petunia. One of his eyes was bulbous and crazed, while the other hung loose, chilling with his thighs. Catching sight of the multi-faceted man of wonder, Petunia sucked his eye back into his eye socket, and transformed into a pen.

He took out his notepad and bent over it, placing his eye-socket to the page and scribbling down a recipe for cranberry oatcakes and sweet disaster. Disliking this recipe, Petunia burst forth into his original form, and lunged at Gale with a turret punch. Off came Gale's wimple.

The wimple flew off Gale's face and dropped into the eye of Jupiter. Jupiter exploded.

Both Gale and Petunia were recoiled by the force of the blast. They span multiple times into the constellation of Pisces, where they fell into a large aquarium containing various types of crabs, razor clams, and a solitary marine bacterium.

At that moment, A USAF Nighthawk zoomed past on the other side of the glass, and Gale caught a glimpse of Peeta's face peering out from the cockpit.

"My lusty wench!" Gale bellowed, realising that this was his chance to prove his worth to the man-woman he so desired.

Peeta slammed on the brakes of his darling aircraft right above the enfolding action. Pressing his hand against the window pane, he caught sight of Gale's randy gaze. A devious smile pricked the corners of his mouth – closing his eyes, he decided to present Gale with a simple but all-important gesture.

A ladybird.

Raising his arms above his head, he began to mime the opening carapace, and the unfolding of glittering (diaphanous!) wings. Wiggling his eyebrows in an attempt to mimic feelers, Peeta KNEW Gale would appreciate this erotic display.

And Gale did. His erection was too hard to control.

"Down, boy, down!" he reprimanded his upright invertebrate giraffe's cranium.

"Aw – Gee!" said the giraffe, frustrated. "Crikey there, sorry mate. I'll go back to fixing the Barbie." That said, the giraffe retreated back towards its cosy little home located in Gale's groin.

And now, Gale was ready for battle.


End file.
